


Revenant Wings

by somnicordia (hihazuki)



Series: liquid gold [1]
Category: Granblue Fantasy (Video Game)
Genre: Bodyswap, Cheese, Lucifer's POV, M/M, Post-What Makes the Sky Blue III: 000 (Granblue Fantasy), You Have Been Warned, aka the worst pov to write from why do i do this to myself, and a whole clusterfuck of confusion, so much cheese it'll give you high blood pressure
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-13
Updated: 2019-06-15
Packaged: 2020-05-02 08:02:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 17,089
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19194919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hihazuki/pseuds/somnicordia
Summary: Lucio's expression changes — he looks solemn now, even wistful as he gazes at Lucifer. "The skies are no longer your responsibility. Lucifer...you are the Supreme Primarch no longer. Your role has been ceded to another, just like the primarchs. What becomes of you then?"— in which lucio has a proposal, and it's up to lucifer to take it or leave it.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [moonflares (jennyhearts)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jennyhearts/gifts).



> Based off my disaster of a [tweet](https://twitter.com/makarakaja/status/1106839243010109440?s=19), which is way too light-hearted for this. here i am 2 months later, ready to disappoint you all with this unbetaed pigsty of a fic
> 
> dedicated to cai who thinks i'm just keeping her around for her writing, well guess whAT
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> you are absolutely right.

The dappled sunlight is as dazzling as he remembers it. Sometimes it’s easy to forget where he is when his surroundings are as tangible as that of his previous reality, never to be sought after again. He’s grown to accept this reality now, this oasis forever untouched by mankind's seditious ambitions.

Time is a concept that no longer exists — not when the days start blurring into each other and his routine remains the same. He's taken up gardening in his free time; before long, the empty plot of land around the gazebo is transformed into a thriving orchard. Feather-like blades of grass embrace the clusters of scarlet and saffron hued primroses situated around the perimeter. Bamboo trees line the walkways from the north and south sides of the gazebo; the south leading towards his place of residence, and the north deeper into the shrubbery, where more plants flourish beyond a wooden bridge overlooking a small pond with flowering lily pads. But in the midst of all the plants is a small collection of trees set apart from the rest in its own alcove, a jewel in the sea of sundry flora.

While he tries to cultivate every inch of his garden, more often than not, this place is where he spends most of his time. To most people, there is nothing particularly outstanding about the trees.

To him, it means everything.   

He bends down, careful not to disturb the growth in front of him as he reaches out to trace the cherry red of the fruits adorning the branches.

Red, just like the color of _his_ eyes.

He leaves them be, choosing instead to clip the flowers that had started obscuring the berries. It’s a slow process, but nothing he wasn’t accustomed to. He has all the time in the world, after all.

The soft patter of footsteps behind him spurs a cadence in his core that comes very rarely in his life. It drowns his hearing until all he can hear is the brevity of anticipation, and his body moves before he realizes it, whipping around to see—

_Ah_.

"You're-" he starts, eyes widening slightly. Of all the faces he expected to see, his own is not one of them. The only other person he knows who bears the same face is— "Lucilius?"

The man with his face breaks into a smile, and that’s when he knows it’s not right. No, Lucilius never smiles like that, so guileless and full of deference. In fact, he can’t recall a time when the Astral ever smiled — his face the epitome of blasé stringency. Even when the labors of his research bore fruit, there was never any indication that he was pleased or content. It made reading his creator absolutely impossible, but it hadn’t bothered him. He had nothing but undivided faith in that man; even if it was a decision he grew to regret much later.

And that’s why when he looks at _this_ man, despite possessing the same exact set of features — down to the color of his eyes, his hair, and even the clothes he’s wearing — he looks anything but familiar.

“Lucilius…” the other man murmurs, a shadow flitting briefly across his face. It disappears as fast as it has come, and his voice, similar in all the wrong ways, is bright when he continues.“No, unfortunately, I am not who you think I am. I believe this is the first time we’ve met. You are Lucifer, yes?”

“You know of me?”

“But of course,” he replies amiably, hands clasped behind him as he ventures closer. “You are the man he cares for most, after all.”

His breath catches in his throat as his hands still. It’s a ghost of a word, an almost breathless syllable when he breathes out, _"He?"_

It's a rhetoric question, one that Lucifer knows the answer without hearing it. And yet, to actually hear those words coming out of his mouth...

The man doesn't respond, his attention migrating to the bed of trees that lay behind Lucifer. Lucifer’s eyes follow like a hawk, scrutinizing as the man approaches the plants and peers at them. "These are lovely trees you’ve planted — the berries seem almost ripe for harvest."

"Not quite." Lucifer murmurs, as a memory stirs in the confines of his mind.

_Not yet,_ Lucifer had chided the young man, who’d been all too eager to pick the berries. _You mustn’t be too hasty. See how most of these are still light pink? We need to give them more time to ripen._

There was nothing in his words that belied disappointment, but it was clear that the benign reproach had gotten to him. Lucifer could read it in the minuscule sag of his shoulders, the sparkle in his eyes that had dimmed slightly. In his acquiescent smile was a touch of petulance, subtle like a brush stroke, his head bowed ever so slightly.

It was childish. To let his intentions be read so easily is an invitation to disaster. Had the other angels taken notice, he would surely be rebuked — even more so that it was in the presence of the Supreme Primarch himself. Nothing less than the utmost respect and reverence was to be expected from his subordinates.

And yet, he was no subordinate. When Lucifer looked upon his face, so open and honest, so pure and bright like rays of sunshine, Lucifer knew he was anything but lesser.

He doesn’t realize the smile that had crept on his face until he sees the other man’s expression soften.

“I see coffee means a great deal to you.”

'A great deal' doesn't even begin to justify what coffee means to him.

“Indeed," he concurs instead. "Cultivating coffee trees… I’ve almost forgotten how much it meant to me until the opportunity presented itself once more.” Letting out a sigh, he finally frees himself from the last remnants of timeworn nostalgia to turn fully towards the expectant man. “But I’m sure you didn’t come to simply reminisce about my past with me. Is there something I could help you with?”

“Ah, yes. I've come with a proposal,” the man reveals, not unlike a solicitor. “But first, allow me to introduce myself.” Without further ado, he bows down with a fluid, theatrical flourish; Lucifer doesn’t know how it takes him so long to notice the tiny wings protruding from his back until it flutters excitedly, like tiny petals dancing in the wind. “My name is Lucio, and I’ve been looking forward to meeting you for quite some time now.”

“Lucio...” Lucifer repeats thoughtfully. “Interesting. I don’t suppose that is your true name?”

“Oh?” Lucio remarks, the smile never leaving his face. “What makes you say that?”

Lucifer pauses, and for a second, he wonders if it's wise to divulge his observations. Lucio seems harmless enough on the surface, presenting himself as a congenial fellow — but there's no telling what's hidden underneath. Perhaps this way he can start digging his way to the bottom of it.

“Your aura." Lucifer begins, watching the other man carefully. "We may share an extreme physical likeness, but your aura is unlike anything I’m familiar with. In fact, I’ve never sensed anything like it, not even among the Primals and Astrals I've met during my lifetime."

He recalls the Singularity's and his two companions' auras that were no less unique — although theirs is a different story altogether.

"It suggests that you may not even be from this skyrealm. The creation myth speaks of the Omnipotent hailing from another dimension, but we know not if he came alone. If you are in some way affiliated with him, hypothetically speaking, it would also explain your apparent ability to open dimensional portals and come here intentionally." Lucio's face gives nothing away, still retaining his deceptively simple smile. Huffing out a breath, Lucifer tears his eyes away and chooses to look up at the sky instead, pure and vast in its openness. "Which leads me to your true identity… it goes without saying that discretion is the best method to mask wherever your origins are concerned, hence your name and appearance.”

There’s a beat of silence, the weight of his words left to hang heavily in the air between them. He thinks he sees Lucio's finger twitch.

“That being said, I could also be completely mistaken.” Lucifer breaks the stalemate with a chuckle. “I was never as sapient as he was, after all.”

“You undervalue yourself.” Lucio says after a minute. “I’m surprised — with how self-assured my clone is, I would have expected him to pass that trait down to you.”

Of all the things that throws Lucifer off today, this must be the crowning point of it all.

“Your clone?” His eyes widen, and the world starts tilting on its head. “You don’t mean to say…”

“But alas, that is a thing of the past. I no longer hold any ties between myself and your creator — he himself has renounced it.” Lucio closes his eyes. “Your hypothesis is more or less correct, with very trifling misapprehensions. I am who they refer to as the Speaker, entrusted with the will of the Omnipotent and observer of the realms.” He opens his eyes, and in it is a determination that Lucifer hadn’t seen up until now. “More precisely, I _was_. I’ve chosen to rescind my role as observer, you see. I believe the time has come for me to move on from my role as the unseen stage manager and to something more proactive. All of this is thanks in part to the Singularity, as well as Sandalphon’s resolve.”

At the explicitly voiced name, Lucifer feels his core tighten, and his ever-present smile falters slightly.

“He’s come far, hasn’t he.” Lucio remarks, and suddenly his gaze turns much sharper —like a predator cornering its prey. “I’ve been acquainted with him only recently, but from what I’ve heard, he’s matured into a truly exceptional Supreme Primarch — I daresay he’s lived up to your name.”

Lucifer doesn't need Lucio to tell him that — he's seen how far the other has come for himself, in the precious few moments he was granted with the fledgling Supreme Primarch. This extraordinary young man had accomplished a great feat that no other has ever accomplished before; not even Lucifer himself.

(In an outre streak of irony, he wonders what his old friend would think.)

From the start, humble confidence had radiated outward from his body in spades. There was the way he'd single mindedly assured Lucifer that this space was no mere illusion, despite the fact that there was no hard evidence to support his claim. Then there was his gentle yet firm refusal to let Lucifer bear responsibility for his sins alongside him, unearthing with it a deep-seated self-repentance that Lucifer hadn't expected to come out from the younger man.

And perhaps for the first time in his life, Lucifer had watched from the gardens as Sandalphon took flight with those twelve magnificent wings, leaving him to return to the skies he had chosen to love of his own volition, the skies that loved him in return.

“No…” Lucifer murmurs, and it takes him a moment to realize that he had spoken. “No, he hasn’t.”

Lucio blinks, clearly not expecting the answer. “Pardon?”

“You claimed he's lived up to my name, but that's entirely false. When he takes up the mantle of Supreme Primarch, it becomes his, and his alone. My purpose, my vision, my legacy… it dies with me. The request I asked of him concerning Lucilius was not one made from a Supreme Primarch to another. I asked him as a fellow equal —as I have always been— and it was his decision whether or not to accept, though I am immensely grateful he did.”

For a few long seconds, Lucio merely stares, and Lucifer returns his gaze with immeasurable conviction.

Lucio gives in first, shaking his head as he lets out a sigh. "Forgive me, I've truly misunderstood the nature of your relationship. It’s clear to me that I still have much to learn about skydwellers and their endless capacity for love and compassion."

“Love?”

“Yes," Lucio chuckles, as if it were obvious. "Surely that is what you feel for him?”

“I—” For once in his life, he's at an utter loss for words. Love is a concept as abstract and inconceivable to him as the color of the sky. He has no idea how to even begin unpacking the word. “I’m not sure. When I was created...I was not blessed with such specifications. Love is not a trait that primal beasts such as I require to perform our duty."

"And yet you realize it, do you?" Lucio urges. "The contradictions you feel in your heart when he is involved."

_And the offer of another cup?_ Sandalphon's voice echoes warmly, a hint of laughter tickling the corners of his mind. _Were you not tempting me to stay longer?_

_The heart is a bundle of contradictions._

Yes… Lucifer had said that, hadn't he? At the time, the words had come so naturally to him that he hadn't thought twice about parsing it.

"Yes." Lucifer admits, and he feels the grip on his own tightly lidded emotions loosening. "Yes, I do."

"Then is it not only right to pursue what your heart desires?"

"My heart's...desires?" Lucifer repeats, and something inside him boils in response. He stiffens. "I don't understand. My wishes have been granted. Lucilius' legacy has been brought to an end, and peace reigns over the skies once more. The primarchs have ceded their powers to nature and are embarking on life anew. There's nothing more I could hope for."

"And what about you?"

"What about me?" Lucifer parrots, confused.

Lucio's expression changes — he looks solemn now, even wistful as he gazes at Lucifer. "The skies are no longer your responsibility. Lucifer...you are the Supreme Primarch no longer. Your role has been ceded to another, just like the primarchs. What becomes of you then?"

Lucifer hesitates, turning sideways to gaze at the trees he planted in the middle of this veritable garden of his own making. Beyond the garden lies nothing but a vast grassland stretching to the end of the world. It feels like if he tries walking in that direction, he'll only end up right where he began.

"I suppose this is where I belong." Lucifer concludes, resigned. "There is nowhere else for me to be. Alas, the dead have no place among the living."

"And how do you feel about that?" Lucio probes.

And that's all he's done since he arrived here and had the audacity to upturn Lucifer's idyllic reality. This strange and peculiar man with whom he shares an uncanny physical likeness has done nothing but probe, ask forthright questions that bordered on invasive, and giving little in return.

It is intolerable.

"Lucio…" Lucifer says, his voice hardening, and the air around them stills. "I don't see the point in you making such trifling inquiries when you must have a bigger purpose in mind for coming out here to see me. You are correct in that I am no longer the Supreme Primarch, but that does not mean I am powerless. I've entertained you thus far, but I strongly advise against trying my patience any further. Isn't it about time for you to disclose your true objective now?"

"Ah," Lucio replies, face falling. "I've spoken out of turn. It was not my intention to confuse nor antagonize you. My proposal is thus," He takes a deep breath, as if gathering his wits. Lucifer can feel the anxiety rolling off him in waves — why that is, he is soon to find out.

"How would you feel about returning to the world of the living?"

"What?" Lucifer startles out a laugh in faint amusement. "I'm afraid I don't follow. I no longer possess a physical vessel to return to. Even if I did, I fail to see how my presence is needed in the sky realm. It would only be redundant in a world where archangels no longer regulate the system."

"Indeed, your logic is sound." Lucio nods. "But the world is not ruled by divine logic. The skydwellers' rebellion that split my master in twain... the meeting of the girl in blue and the red dragon...the destruction of the Tower of God that nearly rent the skies asunder... should one wish for something fervently enough, be it good or evil, the world's rules can be overwritten."

"Be that as it may, it is all I have ever known." Logic gave rise to indifference, which was what had caused so much pain. Lucifer knows this intimately. "Which is why the world has no room for someone like me. The skies are forever changing, continuously evolving and welcoming new generations of skydwellers. I belong in the age of Astrals, a relic of a past better left buried."

He doesn't pay attention to how his core trembles and quivers in the boundaries of his chest. At least, he tries not to. It isn't the first time this has happened — far from it, truth be told. And yet it's never been so difficult to keep it in check, and it takes all he has to not let the exertion show on his face.

"That's wrong." Lucio mutters, and it's like he sees all. "You speak of the world as though it is a sentient being possessing the will to determine who may inhabit its skies, but there is no such thing. Your profound devotion for the world is deeply commendable; but it is also tragic, a double-edged sword. It has ensnared you in its grasp and blinded you to yourself."

Lucifer starts. "I—"

"I'll be frank. The longer you stay in this self-erected cage, the more torment you will experience. Do you not feel how deeply your blades are gouged in your core? Save yourself. Pull it out while you still can, and sever the chains of the past that bind you to eternal servitude."

The pain grows, spreads like wildfire through his system. It's as though he's released the dams that bound a millennia's supply of severely repressed pathos.

"When I said you were no longer the Supreme Primarch, it was not meant to belittle you, as poorly worded as it was. I meant that you are simply Lucifer, and you are a slave to the realm and Astrals' whims no longer." Lucio emphasizes. Then, softer, "Hadn't it always been your plan to watch over the skies with him?"

His lips feel heavy, chest seizing. "How do you know about that?"

"I didn't," Lucio says quietly. "It's simply written all over your face."

Resisting the instinctive urge to cover his face — has he really become so transparent since coming here? — he chooses to look away instead, fists clenching.

“I apologize.” Lucio says after a moment. “I’ve far overstepped my boundaries. I only intended to give you the opportunity, but I hadn’t accounted for your repudiation and became tactless in the process. Rest assured, I will be forcing your hand no longer. Now, if you’ll ex—”

“How?”

“—cuse me, I’ll...” Lucio skitters to a halt, his expression suspended as he belatedly processes what happened. “I’m sorry?”

“How would I be able to return?” Lucifer repeats, his voice a fractured husk of a man. A breeze passes through the enclosure, and he watches as it lifts dandelions up in the air. “I have no means to materialize a vessel.”

“You needn’t worry about the logistics.” Lucio says slowly. “All you need to worry about is what _you_ want.”

“What I...want…” Lucifer echoes. He doesn’t know why those three deceptively simple words wrack him with so much guilt, why it feels as though to obey would be to commit a most foul transgression. More than that, he doesn’t understand. He doesn’t understand how to redirect his focus from the skies to himself. He doesn’t understand _himself_. When he tries to reach in, he meets nothing but a yawning emptiness.

How does Sandalphon do it? To be so certain of his own desires and pursue them so shamelessly… then the realization hits him like a knife to the heart, twisting until he almost doubles over.

Lucifer wants to be like him. To embrace that kind of freedom, to understand it, learn it until it soaks deep into the marrow of his bones, until it embodies his very mind and soul. He could never have foreseen being born without an allotted role to be the hidden variable that allowed Sandalphon to evolve so brilliantly and destroy his limiters whole.  

Lucifer is the very first primal beast created in existence, setting the foundation for all the primals to follow. It is a lofty title worthy of the absolute reverence it commanded, and yet it was a solution borne of prima facie.

What many do not realize is that his model is most obsolete. There is no telling if he is even capable of evolution. For Lucilius, calling Lucifer his most perfect creation meant that he was made with his potential maximized to fill a magnificent but largely unchanging, static role.

Still...he wants to try.

“I want to see the skies again.” Lucifer says, his voice breaking around the edges. “I want to see him again. I want to be with him...and watch over the skies with him.”

This time, when Lucio smiles, it’s different. Gone was that esoteric air that had given Lucifer a world’s supply of frustration and grief, and replacing it is something much more simple and pure, stretching wide from ear to ear.

“Then take my hand,” Lucio says. “And I’ll show you what’s out there.”

With far less hesitation than he’d expected, Lucifer reaches out and grasps his hand. The last thing he sees before the ensuing light from their hands’ convergence consumes him is the sky — a breathtakingly bright and limitless blue.

 

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The first thing he feels is a chilly wind whipping around his face, far different from the gentle, warm breeze of his humble, little sanctuary. His eyes are closed, but he doesn’t need to open them to know where he is. This kind of headwind only existed at a certain altitude in the sky, which meant he was high above island altitude. For a few blissful seconds, he allows himself to revel in how the wind buffets his person with no sympathy, reminding him that he…

He’s alive.

“ _Hey!_ ”

Lucifer’s eyes snap open, but not because of the abrupt intensity of the sound, nor of its close proximity. No, it’s a tone and voice far too familiar for him to ignore. He didn’t think he’d ever get to hear it again, not for a very long time; but there it is.

Sandalphon stands there, face only a few inches away from Lucifer’s, and he looks the same as he always does, perhaps even more dishevelled thanks to the strong winds. His crimson tinted eyes are bright, full of life, and narrowed in… annoyance?

“Are you back with us, now? Or maybe you’d like to wait until the rest of the laundry joins your head up there in the clouds?”

“Ah.” Lucifer blinks and looks down to see a basket of laundry resting in his arms, a sheet of linen dancing precariously close to the edge. Without thinking about it, he tucks it back in before looking back up at Sandalphon, who looks at him like he’s grown another head.

“I think you need to go and take a break.” Sandalphon informs him helpfully.

“Sandalphon!” A voice pipes up from behind one of the laundry lines that surrounded them. “Are you giving Lucio a hard time again?”

_Lucio_?

The man in front of him clicks his tongue before his attention turns to the laundry billowing in the wind next to them. “I was just suggesting he take a break.” Reaching up to his tip toes, he barely manages to take down the bedsheets, throwing it in the basket next to his feet with a disgruntled sigh. “With how long he’s been spacing out, you’d think he’d gotten possessed or something. I just don’t understand why you decided to lump us in together for laundry duty when I’m here doing all the work.”

“Hey, I’m working, too! See?” Gran pops into view, arms holding their fair share of clean linens. There’s a big smile on his face, with a slight hint of mischief sprinkled in. “That aside, are you still going for that restock run?”

He glances at Gran before resuming his work. “Planning on it. Why?”

“Ahaha. You see, something kind of came up, and… they want me and Lyria to go scope this place out.” Gran says, sounding apologetic. “So we can’t go with you like we promised.”

“That’s fine by me.” Sandalphon replies, insouciant. “I was planning on going by myself anyway before you guys volunteered to come along. This doesn’t really change an—”

“But Lucio isn’t doing anything today, right?” Gran chirps and catches Lucifer’s eyes, who’d been silently watching their entire exchange.

“You’ve got to be joking.” Sandalphon cuts in before Lucifer can speak up. “The last thing I need is an airhead getting distracted halfway and slowing me down. Besides, I’m sure he has something better to do.” He turns, glaring at Lucifer. "Right?"

Suddenly caught between a crossfire, Lucifer is at a loss. Judging from the conversation thus far, it’s safe to assume that he is now inhabiting Lucio’s body — an incredibly convenient choice, now that he thinks of it. Sandalphon is also present, traveling the skies with his newfound friends like he had wanted. And yet, he seems more irritable than ever. Most people would prefer to keep their distance at that point — unfortunately, having served in a role incumbent upon supreme accountability came with a lasting effect of interloping. 

“Sandalphon.” Lucifer tastes the name as it rolls off his tongue with his own — no, _Lucio_ ’s voice. “I’d like to come along with you, if you don’t mind.”

He also can't deny the mortally personal reasons for coming along simmering just under the surface. 

For a good few moments, Sandalphon drops all pretenses of his annoyance, his eyes widening as he stares at Lucifer before he shakes it off. Eventually, he settles on, “Suit yourself. Just don’t slow me down.”

“Then it’s settled!” Gran grins, brushing his hands off as he scoops up his basket, filled to the brim with dry linen. He waves to Sandalphon as the angel stalks off with his own, grumbling under his breath. Then he approaches Lucifer, only stopping just short of his personal space to lean in slightly.

“Welcome back.” Gran whispers, and there’s something in his voice that clues Lucifer in.

“You’re aware?” Lucifer whispers back.

“Yeah, Lucio gave me a heads up.” Gran smirks. “We weren’t sure if you would actually bite, though. But I’m glad you did. And sorry for pushing this on you. I figured you’d wanted — you know.”

“It’s no trouble at all.” Lucifer responds, shaking his head. “There are also some things I would like to verify. Thank you for granting me this opportunity.”

“Don’t thank me, I did nothing.” Gran says modestly. “Just take care of Grumplephon for us, alright?”

“I’ll try my best.” Lucifer affirms, heart reaching out to the man who had just disappeared under the deck.

 

 

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They leave just a little after the sun hit its peak and the Grandcypher makes port at Groz Island, an island in the Nalhegrande skydom of great bounty, famed for the powerful figures who congregate here for recreation and business alike. Lucifer can’t say he’s ever been to this part of the skies yet, having rarely found reason to cross the Grim Basin when he was still alive. He's intrigued by the novelties this island has to offer, but that's not all.

He's about to explore it with Sandalphon in tow. The thought alone sends gooseflesh tingling all over his skin, tempered only by the possibility that...

Lucifer makes his way on deck after getting lost a few times (his sense of direction was never the best, and this was also his first time on a ship), his core pounding anxiously. He finds Sandalphon waiting for him at the stern, arms crossed. He breathes a sigh of relief.

For a split second, he was worried that the younger man would have left him behind in his utter disdain for Lucifer.

The brunet is deep in conversation with Rackam, who’s chortling and clapping his back furiously. He hands him what seems to be a vial of medicine. Sandalphon doesn’t seem too bothered by the blatant show of camaraderie, only letting out a sigh as he pockets the vial.

That’s when he spots Lucifer, and just like that, his expression changes and he looks away. Rackam notices him too and calls him over, to which Lucifer has no choice but to do despite Sandalphon’s clear discomfort.

“You’re Lucio, right?” Rackam greets when Lucifer approaches him. “The one going with Sandalphon on his errands?”

“I am.” Lucifer says without hesitation. For now, he’s decided to simply try and play along, until the time comes when he can sit down and figure out the next step.

“Watch out for him, okay? If he’s showing signs like he’s about to hurl, it’s probably the airsickness setting in late, so make sure he takes his meds. Oh, and maybe keep an extra paper bag with you at all times. If you need any they’re down in the galley.”

“Airsickness?” Lucifer blinks, taken aback. “On an airship?”

“Despite being able to fly. Isn’t that hilarious?” Rackam laughs.

“It’s not because of the ship, it’s just because of how shitty you steer,” Sandalphon grumbles. “And besides, I feel fine. Must be because I’m getting used to it. Unfortunately.”

“Hey, hey, I’ll have you know I’m the best helmsman in all of Phantagrande!” Rackam drawls, shakes his head. “Do you know any other helmsman who can cross the Celestial Straits and Pandemonium without crashing? That’s right.” He smirks, ignoring Sandalphon’s muttered, _we didn’t have any other choice_ , and forges on. “And for the record, you’re the _only one_ out of the hundreds on this ship who gets airsick. So, buddy, if you ask me, it sounds like it's less of a _me_ problem and more of a _you_ problem.”

Sandalphon clicks his tongue in irritation, but says nothing to deny it. “Fine, whatever. If you’re done prattling, I’m going to go. We haven’t got all day, and I want to get this done with before the sun goes down.”

Rackam laughs again. “Don’t take it so personally. Everyone has their weaknesses, so don’t worry about it. It makes you more human, don’t you think? I kind of prefer you that way.”

Sandalphon coughs. “Rackam?”

“Yes?”

“Shut up.”

When they disembark, it’s to the sound of the rifleman’s hearty laughter ringing behind them. Right as they step on land, Sandalphon whirls around to face Lucifer, who isn’t expecting the abruptness of it.

“You will speak of this to no one,” he hisses. “Or else.”

It takes Lucifer a second to realize that Sandalphon had asked him a question (or more accurately, expecting a reply). He opens his mouth, only to find that he’s not entirely sure what the other is referring to.

“Speak of what?”

At that moment, Sandalphon looks torn between wanting to run or throw him off the island.

“My...condition.” he grits out, the strain of remaining calm palpable on his features. “You weren’t even supposed to know. That Rackam and his stupid, big mouth…”

“Ah, your airsickness.” Lucifer remembers. “If I may ask, when did you start having this affliction?”

“That’s,” Sandalphon falters, looking conflicted before turning away. “That’s none of your concern.” He starts walking at a brisk pace, and Lucifer has no choice but to follow him if he doesn’t want to fall behind.

Airsickness. Since when did Sandalphon have such a condition? Is it a flaw in his design? Had Lucifer overlooked a critical detail in his blueprint and made such an egregious faux pas with his parameters? Perhaps if he had consulted Lucilius more during the creation process, he wouldn't have— 

He stops walking, letting horror wash over him. It's all too easy to fall back on this particular line of thought, and he loathes it. Sandalphon may have been his creation, but he is and has always been far more than that. His potential for greatness was overlooked by even Lucilius, who had been content to pigeonhole him as a supererogatory substitute until he'd proven him wrong and personally put an end to his cruel legacy.

It’s difficult, Lucifer thinks as he gazes at Sandalphon’s back, to maintain the separation of Sandalphon as his creation and as a fellow archangel. At the most shameful, lowest points of his life, he wishes that Lucilius had been the one to create him instead. The duality of it all is far too taxing to bear for someone like Lucifer.

They wile away the hours visiting different shops in the commercial district, and for awhile, it's a good distraction. Lucifer takes in the sights and smells, relishing in the din of the market swimming with life and vendors selling their wares. Their streets are cobbled and the architecture is different from what Lucifer remembers in Phantagrande, but the enthusiasm of the everyday people goes unchanged. Lucifer finds himself smiling as he follows dutifully behind Sandalphon, whose attention is reserved exclusively for the enumeration in his hand.

He leads them both around with minimal conversation, which Lucifer doesn't particularly mind. Sandalphon has never been a very talkative person around him, so he's used to it. They eat lunch in relative silence, letting their surroundings do the talking for both of them. But while Sandalphon is set on ignoring him as much as possible, Lucifer is content to stare.

It's been so long... too long. It's hard for him not to take account of everything Sandalphon does — when he isn't looking, of course. He'd notice everything, from how Sandalphon likes playing with his hair or sticking out his tongue when he's deep in thought, how he eats his side before his entree, how he squints ever so slightly when he drinks beverages that aren't his own handcrafted coffee, to how he taps a heel when he's restless from waiting in a long line.

Aside from the little quirks, Lucifer also takes note of how much more openly magnanimous he is now, even going out of his way to help a young child fish something out of the lakeside after it had fallen in. He had reluctantly handed over his portion of the shopping bags to Lucifer beforehand, mumbling about how he'll be quick. Upon retrieving the plushie she had dropped, the child, who had been positively bawling her eyes out, ran up to Sandalphon and hugged him, thanking him profusely. The second she called him  _big brother_ , he'd gone bright red, all the way to the tips of his ears, stammering before sending her on her way. 

There are no words to explain the tide of emotion that overcomes Lucifer then — warm, enveloping, and all-consuming.

It doesn't take much longer after that for the sun to start dipping under the horizon, painting the sky in brilliant streaks of purple and red. The crowds are thinning out and the exuberant chatter recedes into murmurs as street lamps begin to flicker on one by one, stalls closing up as vendors count their rupies and stack empty crates atop their carts.

They both walk, one in front of the other, silent save for the crackling of shopping bags slung over each of their arms. Their bags are filled with kitchen paraphernalia such as silverware, napkins, coffee beans, tea, sugar and salt. Creamers and milk are in the other bags, along with hand towels and tablecloths — Lucifer had caught Sandalphon mumbling under his breath about certain crewmembers spilling their drinks on them.

So far, Lucifer has deduced that Sandalphon is indeed up to something — something like running a cafe. It doesn’t come off as too much of a surprise to Lucifer. If anything, the notion that he loved coffee enough to open a cafe and spread the passion makes Lucifer’s chest swell with joy. Had Sandalphon been the one to take initiative, or was it by the urging of another? Either way, he had been willing to put himself in a position of continuous exposure with skydwellers; the very people he had once resented enough to attempt felling.   

Now, it seems as though his resentment remains only for one person, and although it’s not directed at Lucifer himself per se, it is still meant for someone who shares his exact likeness, and it eradicates the warm glow in his core, causing a deep, visceral ache to blossom in its place and nearly take the breath out of his lungs.

He'd looked at Lucifer with pain and grief before. During the rebellion thousands of years ago, when he'd attempted to strike down Lucifer. When Lucifer imprisoned him in Pandemonium, as he casts the seal that was to bind him for eternity. When he confronts him once more, a thousand years later, battered and defeated by the Singularity of legend.  

He thinks he’d rather die than be the source of his suffering again.

“Sandalphon.” He begins, and he finds it harder than normal to summon his voice.

The man grunts in reply, but shows no signs of slowing down.

“May I ask you something?”

“Would it matter if I said no?”

The utter blase tone makes Lucifer’s core churn painfully, but it’s far too late to turn back now.

“Is there a reason why you dislike Lu — me so much?”

That’s when Sandalphon grinds to a halt, the shopping bags on his arms swaying for the last time. It seems like a decade passes before he slowly but surely turns around to face Lucifer, and what he sees makes time stop indefinitely.

His eyes flash an apoplectic crimson, glinting fiercely with unshed tears. If looks could kill, he would have decapitated him three times over. He’s trembling ever so slightly, a deep flush flaring across the smooth planes of his face, and that’s when Lucifer thinks he should have said nothing at all.

“I haven’t the slightest idea if this is your sick attempt at a joke or if you’re actually that benighted. Does it amuse you to walk around so casually with that face? How easy it must be to bear no heed to those around you. You think it’s all fine and harmless. But it isn’t. And you want to know why?” Sandalphon hisses, his breath shallow. Lucifer starts to feel increasingly ill, but there is no power in the skies that can put a halt to this rapidly deteriorating turn of events.

“I’ve spent the first 2000 years of my life with him," Sandalphon continues, his voice the epitome of cold anger. "He was all I’ve ever known and cared for. Nothing else mattered to me — I told you this before, though I knew none of you took me seriously. It was thanks to my incompetence that I had to watch him die right before me. I’ve had to listen to his last words without him ever realizing I was right there holding him, losing him. I had to witness his body being taken over by his deplorable creator, only to end up fighting and destroying it for the sake of keeping my promise. And now…"

Sandalphon chokes back an angry sob. “Now you pop up out of nowhere, with neither rhyme nor reason, spouting nonsensical platitudes like I could give two shits about people having lookalikes when the one I love is stuck somewhere I can’t _fucking_ reach!” His chest is heaving, nostrils flaring. During the course of his diatribe, his voice had steadily increased in volume; an ominous wave that grew into a tsunami, meeting the crest. He'd caught the attention of a few stragglers that had the misfortune of straying into their vicinity, and they spared them a glance before quickly going about their way, eager to steer clear of the spat. But Lucifer can’t hear it, far too distracted by the word that had deigned to rain havoc upon his reality.

_The one I love_.

“I don’t understand why someone like _you_ gets to live while he… he has to pay for everything.” Sandalphon looks physically torn, and he drops the shopping bags on the ground in favor of grasping at the hem of his own shirt. “I can’t accept this. I will _never_ accept this. And you ask me why I can’t stand you? You think you can do whatever you want, thinking you can get away with calling me stupid nicknames like San—” Without warning, he stops abruptly, looking for all the world like he just got rammed by a skyskimmer. He starts shaking his head slowly at first, before it increases in speed and he takes a step backwards, then two. His eyes are the size of saucers, wide and unblinking, as he stares at Lucifer the way one would a specter.  

Then, faster than Lucifer could blink, Sandalphon turns around and sprints away without another word, leaving Lucifer behind with nothing but the weight of the world threatening to crush him under.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

 

He doesn’t know how much time has passed since the walk back, but night falls silently like an assassin. Lucifer had stood there unflinching for what seemed like years before he let his feet carry him away to wherever they wanted to go, and he let his thoughts consume his subconscious once more.

Everything Sandalphon said, he’d been keeping it inside for who knows how long. He’d shown nothing, said nothing at all that indicated he was harboring any of those feelings back in the garden. Had Lucifer been so preoccupied with keeping up appearances that he could have overlooked something so obvious? Then again, Lucifer had never been the most perceptive individual — if he could even call himself an individual to begin with.

_Since when_ , Lucifer thinks, forlorn. _When have we stopped being so comfortable with each other and started keeping so many secrets?_

And then:

_Have we truly known one another?_

Sandalphon had been there to see Lucifer pass on. This whole time, Lucifer had fooled himself into believing that Sandalphon had been spared the worst of it, and that the Singularity had passed on the news instead. How much had Sandalphon suffered since then? How many nightmares and sleepless nights had he gone through thanks to it? Especially since Lucilius himself had seemingly been revived using Lucifer’s body as a conduit — it reeked of Belial’s scheming, to be certain.

He finds himself at the dock, where the Grandcypher is resting with her sails down, peaceful and silent in the night. Lucifer is about to board when he feels the sudden jolt in his core, quick and brutal. It leaves him hunching over, gasping for breath as the pieces fall together like a bad omen in his mind.

His time is running out.  

Rackam leans against a pillar on deck, downing a bottle of swill. When he sees Lucifer boarding the ship, he straightens up slightly.

“What did you —” Rackam starts, but then stops himself. “You know what, I’m not even going to ask. He’s gone downstairs.” He takes another gulp before eyeing Lucifer. “You’re going to take care of it, right?”

“I will.” Lucifer promises before disappearing below deck.

The corridors are dark and quiet as Lucifer passes through, and lamps glow and flicker as if guiding him. Lucifer has no idea which room is Sandalphon’s, and in the proximity of so many unique auras, it’s nearly impossible to pick out his. So he heads towards one where most congregate, and before long, he finds himself standing in front of a door left slightly ajar, with light leaking out. The air from within is awash with citrus and the aroma of distilled spirits blending with small chatter amidst clinking glass.

Without thinking twice, he pushes the door open, and a large Draph greets him from behind the counter.

“Welcome to Raduga!” The Draph greets, their arms wide in supplication. There are patrons scattered about the bar, but they only pay him minimal heed before resuming their colloquy. "Is it your first time here? Feel free to take a seat anywhere you'd like!"

"Ah," Lucifer replies, looking lost as the broody, maroon ambience assaults him. So this is the night havens in which skydwellers tended to frequent. He can’t deny the spark of curiosity that ignited in his core, but he has unfinished business to tend to. "I'm sorry, I'm in a bit of a hurry. Have you seen Sandalphon, by any chance?"

"Sandalphon? No, I don't believe he's here." The bartender replies, and Lucifer tries not to let his disappointment show. "Is something the matter? You look incredibly distressed."

"I…" Lucifer hesitates. "I need to find him."

"I see," they say, and there's something in their voice that conveys complete understanding — a part of Lucifer almost wishes he could stay and tell this person everything. What a peculiar sensation. "He hasn't dropped by in a while, but maybe he's in his room?"

Lucifer opens his mouth to reply that he has no earthly idea where his room is, but before he could say anything, the door opens again, announcing the arrival of someone new.

"Ladiva, I've brought what you asked." a young man with a dark complexion asserts, his voice a soft, smooth timbre as he holds up a bottle of liquor. "Would this be enough?"

"That's perfect, Jamil!" Ladiva says, clapping their hands together. "Just set it down at the back and we'll be good to go. Oh, and before I forget, would you happen to know of Sandalphon's whereabouts?"

"Sandalphon?" Jamil repeats, and that's when his eyes fall on Lucifer. His eyes light up in mild recognition. "Ah, it's you."

Lucifer tilts his head. Was he a friend of Lucio's? "Have we met?"

"No, but he's talked about you before." Jamil says matter-of-factly, walking past him to the counter. "I saw him heading towards the main galley on my way here. It's late, so the galley is closed, but I assume he's at his café."

His café. Why didn't Lucifer think of that before? He bows his head in gratitude, excusing himself quickly, but not before Ladiva stops him one last time.

"If you don't mind me saying one thing... I can tell there's a lot you're keeping inside." Ladiva tells him, and the worry on their face is much too genuine. "There's only so much a person can shoulder by themselves. When it's time, make sure you tell him everything. Communication is the key to a lasting relationship! He'll come to appreciate it in the end — I'm sure of it."

Their words resonate with truth, touching his soul with a tenderness he doesn't think possible. Lucifer breathes in, perplexed. To think a skydweller he has never met in his life could impart such meaningful wisdom. Out of all the things he regretted in his life, allowing mortals to become the vanguard of their own future is not one of them.

"Thank you, Ladiva." Lucifer says sincerely. "Communication has always been somewhat of a persistent hurdle for me, I'm afraid. But I'll try. For his sake," he closes his eyes, smiling. "and my own."

It turns out to be exactly what he needed to hear. Driven with a sense of newfound purpose and clarity, it seems clear now which pulse of life belongs to Sandalphon, and he berates himself for not realizing it sooner.

He lets his feet carry him across the ship to the area next to the mess hall, a small room tucked in the corner, hidden from the public eye. He opens the door slowly, minding the bells situated overhead.

The first thing he sees is sweeping long curtains decorating the windows and potted plants dotting the perimeter of the room. Compared to Ladiva’s bar, this place seems much homier and intimate, with how the tables are set up and aprons that Lucifer could easily identify as belonging to Lyria and Vyrn respectively hung up on the racks, frilly blue and miniature red, next to a simple chef apron that he assumes is Sandalphon's. There are other little knick-knacks far too eclectic and arbitrary for Sandalphon's taste scattered here and there that Lucifer doesn’t recognize — he assumes they must belong to the scores of other skyfarers accompanying their journey to Estalucia. Books detailing the fundamentals of alchemy are lined up meticulously in alphabetical order on one of the shelves. Portraits are hung on the walls that looked like it had been drawn recently by a local artist, judging by the date and location signed. On the far end, next to the window, there is a modestly elevated stage with a music stand, stools, and a piano, presumably for those with a penchant for music to play.

Lucifer takes all of this in slowly — observing in wonder the physical manifestation of so many souls and wishes gathered together around a single person, the final cornerstone between the age of Astrals and humanity, currently seated in the center of the room. His head is buried in his arms, hidden completely from view. His back rises and falls in even tempo — he is fast asleep.

He can’t wake him up. How can he, given the circumstances in which they had last parted? Instead, he goes around him, careful not to jolt the shopping bags on his arms to set them down on the counter. In the corner of his eye, he spots a line of jars against the wall, filled with varying amounts of coffee beans, all neatly labelled and organized.

...Except the furthest one, with nothing but a single red fruit inside. After closer inspection, Lucifer knows without a shadow of doubt what he needs to do.

It doesn’t take long for the fresh aroma of coffee beans to waft through the air, the gentle bubbling of boiling water the only sound to break the tranquility of the room. Lucifer finds all the ingredients he needs without much trouble. It’s a testament to how familiar he is to Sandalphon’s habits when all he needs to find the sugar and creamer is to open the cabinet and reach to the leftmost corner of the shelf, behind a set of cups and trays, where they sit undisturbed.

(Sandalphon had the habit of hiding them from plain sight after one of the younger angels of instruction had come across it and accidentally made a mess out of innocent curiosity — it had put the brunet in a sour mood for the rest of the day. Hiding it from Lucifer proved to be futile, as he noticed the downturned curve of his lips and scrunched up eyebrows when Sandalphon thought he wasn’t looking.)

“You really are Lucifer, aren’t you.”

Lucifer doesn’t turn around, and instead reaches for the two cups he had set aside for the occasion. He pours them in, one after the other, in a similar fashion as he had in the garden, before bringing them back to where the younger man was still situated.

His head is no longer set in his arms, but it was still downcast —  as Lucifer passes around him, he spots red-rimmed eyes and dried tear tracks running down the sides of his face, staining his cheeks red.

He sets a cup down gently in front of Sandalphon, who accepts it rather hesitantly and says nothing.

“These are the beans I planted 2000 years ago, aren’t they?” Lucifer remarks, setting a teapot carefully to the side. “I didn’t expect to find any in this day and age. How did you know where to find them?”

“I didn’t.” Sandalphon murmurs almost inaudibly, and doesn’t bother to elaborate.

“I see.” Lucifer responds. “I hope it wasn’t too much trouble for you.”

Sandalphon says nothing. Lucifer’s eyes wander, and that’s when he spots the wads of paper crumpled up into tiny balls around Sandalphon’s feet. Before he could think twice, he bends over to pick them up.

“Please don’t.” Sandalphon speaks up. “Leave them be.”

“But—”

“I don’t want you to read them,” Sandalphon exhales. “Not you, of all people.”

Lucifer straightens himself then, sobered by the gravitas of his concision. “I’m sorry.”

Sandalphon takes a deep breath, cradling his head in his hands. For a few seconds, there is only the sound of the smaller angel trying to regulate his breathing. “I really can’t stand Lucio.”

“I understand how you feel.” Lucifer replies. “But please don’t hate him. He is the one who brought us together once more.”

Sandalphon makes a noise almost like a dying whale before he silences himself by drinking coffee, which had more or less grown lukewarm in their palaver.

“Sandalphon?” Lucifer impels gently.

“How long?”

Sandalphon doesn’t need to elaborate for Lucifer to know what he’s referring to. After a few seconds, Lucifer sighs. “Since this morning.” He watches as pain mars his already bleak expression.

“That explains everything.” He grimaces, letting his head fall into his arms once again. “The name, the inflection, the style of speech… I thought I was imagining things, but to think…”

“I should have said something.” Lucifer says. “But I couldn’t find the time nor place. It was my fault.”

“No, it’s not,” Sandalphon shakes his head. “I never gave you the chance to speak, and with the way I treated you… I have no words to explain how ashamed I am. If you can find it in your heart to forgive me —”

“Sandalphon—”

“All of it was uncalled for. Everything from my behavior to the things I told you just earlier… if I could take that all back, I would. There was no reason — I shouldn’t have…” he struggles, his voice shaking. “I’d appreciate if you’d forget it all happened, but I know that’s a stupid thing to ask.”

“Sandalphon.”

“I understand if what I’ve done repulses you, and I’ll gladly accept—” Sandalphon rambles, but then grinds to a halt. “W-Wait, what are you—”

“Forgive me,” is all Lucifer has to say before he lifts the hand cradled in his and presses the knuckles to his lips.

Sandalphon’s eyes are blown wide, his mouth agape. “L-Lucifer?” He tries to pull his hand away, but Lucifer’s grip is strong and unrelenting.

“Please,” Lucifer murmurs, soothing the knuckles gone white with pressure. “Would you hear me out?”

Wordlessly, the brunet nods, too stricken to do anything else.

“Thank you.” Lucifer smiles, setting down his hand — but not letting go. “I can’t begin to fathom the mortification you must be in. You’d like for me to forget everything that transpired, but unfortunately, it’s not that simple.”

“I understand.” Sandalphon interjects quickly, eyes tunneling in on their connected hands. “That’s why I’m willing to—”

The older man shakes his head, shushing him. “That’s not what I mean. I’m saying that it’s possible,” he pauses. “But I refuse to.”

“But… why?” Sandalphon replies helplessly, shoulders sagging. “Are you planning to use it against me?”

“Nothing of the sort.” Lucifer says gently. “Sandalphon… may I confess something?”

“I…” Sandalphon stutters. He breaks off eye contact, looking away. “I’m listening.”    

“In that case, let me elaborate from the beginning.” Lucifer begins, and he looks out of the window to see the moonlight streaming in, stars peeking out from the night sky. “Your acquaintance Lucio visited me earlier in that place. In so many words, he offered me the opportunity to visit the skyrealm I’d so loved and cherished.” He lets go of Sandalphon’s hand, and it remains suspended in mid-air as the owner realizes belatedly what happened. “At first, I refused. I firmly believed that my time had passed, and there was nothing left for me in this world.”

“That’s not true!” Sandalphon exclaims, retracting his hand and clenching it against the table. “There’s always—”

“I’m getting there.” Lucifer reminds him softly, faintly amused. While the man has long since matured from his old self-absorbed self, it’s a relief to know that slapdash temerity hasn’t changed. “You must understand that first and foremost, my duty has always been for the skyrealm. Acting as the Supreme Primarch was all I had ever known. But in that garden where I awoke and continued to pass each day with neither aim nor purpose, my mind began to splinter. For the first time, I felt an irrational fear. Confusion. I wondered if this was what it felt like to live each day haunted by the ghosts of what could have been. More precisely, I thought of you.”

Lucifer catches his eyes and holds them, even as Sandalphon tries to shrink away. “You, who had suffered through each day in loneliness, forever waiting and wanting. And before long, you were all I could think of. How were you faring? Have you found what it was you were looking for, a place you belong? I wanted to know. I wanted to see you again. Once that wish finally came true and you came to me again, I thought I would finally be at peace. I had gotten what I longed for. It felt more than enough.”

“Lucifer…” the brunet mumbles.

“As I said earlier, it isn’t as simple as it seems; I found that out quickly enough. No longer was I able to contain my bearings the moment you left. It felt as though you had taken my core with you. And Lucio… he saw right through me. He told me that the skies are no longer my responsibility. That if I chose to come back, it would be as myself, and not the Supreme Primarch. Which is why I’m here.” Lucifer smiles. “Sandalphon, there is nothing else I desire more in this world than to be with you. Even more so than my dying wish — even that concerned you. The reason I’m here right now, at this moment in time… It’s not for the skies, the angels, or anything else. Sandalphon, it’s for you.”

He feels the sudden jolt again in his core, the lightning slip of control in this borrowed vessel, and that’s when he feels the slightest hint of panic. He’s never felt anything like this before — the novelty of desperation, the urgency to tell someone how you feel about them, how much you care about them, knowing that words can never justify the depths of your affection for them.

_So this is it_ , Lucifer realizes, like the dawn of a morning star. He’s never found the word for it. He’s heard of it, yes, but now it feels like he’s truly discovering it for the first time, by his own hand. He’d never given a second thought to the tumultuous tempest of contradiction where Sandalphon was concerned, despite all the signs.

He remembers how desperately he wanted the other to sit and have another cup of coffee with him, and at the same time, send him back to the living realm where he belonged. He remembers how determined he was to smile for him to the very end, when all he wanted was to hold him tight and never let go. He remembers feeling the elation bloom in his chest when Sandalphon discovered his newfound desire to live on with his friends and protect the skies, but he would be a fool to deny the relentless ache that accompanied it.

Most of all, he remembers his immense self-restraint, saying as little as possible when all he wanted in that moment was to tell him—

“I love you, Sandalphon.” Lucifer says in a rush, and suddenly it feels like all the weight on his shoulders had been lifted, and the delirious giddiness he feels afterwards makes him feel like he’s standing on air. “For 2000 years, I’ve lived and seen all there is to see, but you have always been the only one I’ve wanted to return to. As long as you were there, nothing else mattered. I’d always feel a semblance of guilt, as though this isn’t something I should be thinking about. I had—”

“— your own purpose, and we were on different spots on the chessboard. The vast difference in hierarchy couldn’t be more clear, and yet you can’t get them off your mind. Even when they’re gone, it’s as if they never left.” Sandalphon continues, placing his hand on the other’s lightly. His voice sounds wet and hoarse, like he’s seconds away from splitting at the seams. Lucifer flips their hands to hold him back. He holds on tighter. “But you tell yourself that deep down, you know better than thinking you can ever have them, that the puzzle will never fall into place the way you want it to. You try to accept it, with what limited power you have. You have no choice but to power through, locking away your feelings in a place where no one can trespass. You pray and hope that someday, some grand miracle would happen and make everything you’ve done worth it, that it wasn’t all for naught.

He finally looks up, and when their gazes meet, Lucifer is entranced. “Like right now. Everything you’ve told me...it feels like something I’m going to wake from at any second. I’ve dreamed and dreamed about this moment for so long, and not once did I ever think...you would actually—” his voice catches in his throat, and the weight of his emotions cause him to double over.

Lucifer tugs on his arm without a second thought, pulling the angel off his chair and close against him. There is resistance at first, with Sandalphon freezing up the moment his head brushes against Lucifer’s chest, his reaction one of shock — but then he lets himself go, wrapping his arms around his waist and up his back, and he exhales long and deep.

“I love you, too. I’ve always known you’d be my first and last. But I was so terrified… I didn’t want you to be disgusted by me or hate me, so I’ve always...always held it all in. There are days when I think I absolutely can’t take it anymore, that I’ll combust at any moment, but then another day passes, and then another, then another, and I find that I’m still hanging on. I’m still waiting, always wanting…”

“Thank you.” Lucifer says sincerely. “Thank you for waiting for me. It’s not fair of me to expect that from you. I wanted you to find your own happiness, so I tried to let you go.” His hands rub soothingly up and down his back. “But here I am, for better or worse. To feel such overwhelming happiness...I wonder if this guilt I feel is a form of retribution in its own right.”

“Stop it.” Sandalphon pulls back to look him in the eye, his face unusually stern. “You’re always like this, denying yourself for the sake of others. I know it’s hard, but there’s nothing wrong with letting yourself go. The skies are my responsibility now, and all that matters for you now is what _you_ want.”  

Lucifer looks down at Sandalphon’s eyes, glassy with anger and conviction. Mirth bubbles up inside him, and he breaks out into laughter, surprising them both.

Sandalphon looks utterly confused. “Did I say something funny?”

“No,” Lucifer chuckles. “It’s just...Lucio said the exact same thing.”

At the name, the brunet frowns. “Speaking of Lucio… he’s not listening in on this, is he?”

“Ah…” Lucifer tilts his head, humming. “Truthfully, I don’t know. I haven’t felt his presence ever since I assumed control of his body. But I suspect that he’s returning soon.” He feels the pulsing tear in his consciousness that had been present since the first instance of his control slipping, and it had slowly been inching wider since.

“Wait.” Sandalphon stares at him, dread spilling into his eyes. “Then what’s going to happen to you?”

“I’m not sure.” Lucifer confesses, and the crestfallen expression on Sandalphon’s face is enough to make him lose heart.

After everything, then this. What was the point of coming back if all he’s doing is just hurting Sandalphon again? Lucifer’s seen how happy the younger man is being around his friends — there had been no need for him to interfere again and cause unnecessary heartache.

But no. Hadn’t he decided that it’s going to be different? This time, he’s not going to stand by idly and watch that back retreat into the distance again. Even more importantly, he’s not going to let _Sandalphon_ go through that again.

For just this once, he hopes that his selfishness can be forgiven.

“Sandalphon,” Lucifer says, waiting until Sandalphon brings his face up to his before continuing. “I want to stay.”

“How?” Sandalphon whispers.

“I was wondering if you’re able to help me with that.” Lucifer says, diffident. “As the new Supreme Primarch, surely you would know people who specialize in certain areas of talent... like reconstruction of the body. At least, that is my hope.”

“Body reconstruction…” Sandalphon mutters, then snapping his fingers as he comes to a startling realization. “Wait, I do! Damn, why hadn’t I thought of that earlier! That’s how those twins came back!”

“The twins?”

“Ah — don’t worry about that for now.” Sandalphon says, scratching the back of his head. “I’ll see if I can enlist her help. Given the circumstances, I don’t doubt that she’ll lend a hand.”

“I don’t doubt it either.” Lucifer reassures. “I trust in you.”

At that moment, a shadow casts itself across Sandalphon’s eyes, and he steps away from Lucifer’s embrace, who lets him go reluctantly.

“Sandalphon?”

“I’m sorry.” Sandalphon says, looking down and bringing his hands together.

Lucifer blinks in confusion. “Whatever for?”

“I don’t deserve your trust… not after how I left you behind in that garden.” He bites his lip. “After all that’s been said and done, I only thought of myself. I didn’t even attempt to take you with me. You’ve been waiting for so long...and I just made you wait even longer.”

“But you knew,” Lucifer says, lifting Sandalphon’s chin to meet his gaze once more. “You knew there was nothing you could do. For our paths to intersect once more was already nothing short of a miracle — there should have been no feasible way for the dead to reunite with the living. Please don’t be so hard on yourself.”

Sandalphon sighs, leaning into his hand. “I know… it’s a force of habit, I suppose. There’s a lot I need to atone for… that I’m still atoning for. There’s no room for complacency if I am to make up for all my wrongs.”

“And that’s what I adore about you,” Lucifer reveals with swelling affection. “Your passion. Your humanity. Your relentless compassion and empathy. All the qualities that I lack, and you possess in sheer abundance.”

“Please.” Sandalphon scrunches his eyes shut in embarrassment, color rising to his cheeks. “That’s not true.”

“It is.” Lucifer laughs again, chest squeezing at the sight. “I support you, Sandalphon. I share in your determination, and I’d love for nothing more than to join you in your journey of atonement. Despite what you might say,” Lucifer interjects quickly when he sees the other about to protest. “I also have mistakes that I wish to atone for. And perhaps I may discover myself along the way, should the fates permit.”

“Lucifer…” Sandalphon utters. His eyes close briefly, as if resting. When he opens them again, it is ablaze with conviction. “The fates won’t decide anything. I used to believe in it, too, cursing my own as I let the anger consume my entire being and cloud my vision. But that time is long past. We decide our own fates. Just as you’ve told me to find my own purpose, I want to help you find yours.” His hands go up to grasp Lucifer’s hand which had risen to rest on his cheek. “I promise I’ll stand by you for however long you need. I’ll never...ever give up on you. I made that mistake one too many times.”

Lucifer’s core beats loud in his chest, ringing in his ears as his senses amplify, cutting everything into sharp focus. The warmth of the other’s hand on his. The long lashes brushing against the apples of his cheekbones, the delicate strands of hair falling through his fingers like fine wine.

He’d created him, and yet it feels like he’s only met him for the first time.

“Sandalphon…” Lucifer says in equal parts wonder and reverence. The words roll off his tongue easier now, and he’s surprised to find that he no longer feels conscious about it. “I want to kiss you.”

He wants, he wants, he _wants_.

Lucifer watches as the younger man’s face morphs from uncomprehending, to unadulterated surprise, and eventually, amusement.

“As much as I’d love you to,” Sandalphon replies, the rosiness in his cheeks emboldened by the glow of the lamp beside them. “I don’t think I’m keen on the idea of kissing Lucio.”

At the mention of the original owner’s name, Lucifer’s expression falls. For a few blissful moments, he’d forgotten all about his own circumstances. “That’s fair.”

The look on Lucifer’s face must have stirred something in Sandalphon as the man breaks into a wide smile. “Don’t give me that face. You do know what that means, I’m sure.”

“Hmm…” Lucifer pretends to ponder, before an idea comes to him. “I believe you know that I know what you know that I know.”

“Did you just use my own words against me?” Sandalphon startles out a laugh, and Lucifer thinks he’ll never get enough of it.

“I learned only from the best,” he smiles, and tugs him closer once again.

They fall together like two pieces of a puzzle, and Sandalphon rests his head on Lucifer’s shoulder with a contented sigh. 

“Will you accept my proposal?” Sandalphon whispers, linking his fingers at the small of Lucifer’s back and sending tingles up his spine and warming his core.

“I accept.” Lucifer replies. “Under one condition.”

“What is it?”

“You said you’d stay by me for however long I needed.” Lucifer recalls. “How does forever sound?”

Sandalphon hums, but not one of a person still considering his options. “Forever sounds like a pretty long time. Are you sure?”

“Only if you are.” Lucifer affirms. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

“Then forever it is,” he replies, and Lucifer feels Sandalphon’s core beat loud and strong against his chest, telling him that, if nothing else, this is a decision he’ll never regret.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ....im sorry cai ilu 
> 
>  
> 
> if you made it this far: congrats! 
> 
> to address a particular concern: lucifer using _they_ pronouns to refer to ladiva is intentional. it was his first time meeting her, so he has no idea how to refer to her. he only knows from first glance that she isn't cis, which isn't much to go off on. i considered writing a scene where jamil or one of the patrons could demonstrate ladiva's proper pronouns, but unfortunately, i couldn't fit it in. sorry about that!
> 
> in any case, buckle up for the epilogue! thank you for reading.


	2. epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For an entire year, he had prayed, he had hoped, he had wished, convinced that Lucifer was forever gone to a place he can never follow. For an entire year, he had willingly drowned himself in his own delusions.
> 
> He had committed a terrible sin, one that he may never well atone for. He's slowly but surely taking steps towards his own redemption, and that's all that matters to him.
> 
> He'd managed to save Lyria.
> 
> Now, there's only one last soul to save.

The cafe is busier than ever, and it feels like every single person on the ship has made attendance. The jingling of the doorbells never cease, as well as the greetings that accompany it each and every time.

Lyria and Vyrn come in early most mornings despite Sandalphon's frequent attempts to tell them off — certainly there are better ways for them to pass the time than helping him set up shop almost _every single day_. As usual, Sandalphon's will pales against the sheer force of their combined might. Gran himself comes in every now and then, when he isn't indulging in midnight snacks at Raduga with the rest of the ship's night owls.

Today, it's just Lyria and Vyrn, who tell him that someone had snuck Gran something to drink last night without him realizing it.

Gran, the youth sung in prophecy as the Singularity, fighting leagues of gods and legends without knowing a single defeat, and yet is now fighting a losing battle with the perhaps worst, most formidable foe in his life — a hangover.

The thought amuses Sandalphon, who brushes away their lingering concerns by telling them their beloved captain is finally on his way to becoming a man, earning him incredibly fascinated looks. Needless to say, they start the day together, welcoming customers as Sandalphon takes the time to teach an ecstatic Lyria how to prepare the simpler blends in between Vyrn calling off orders.

There is a smile on Sandalphon’s face, small yet tender, that never leaves.

They all take a lunch break together, and Lyria regales him with stories of her adventures at the newest island they've made port at — and in the midst of Vyrn complaining about Gran's latest brand of recklessness, a collective, shrill chirping cuts the conversation short. Lyria gasps, and Sandalphon lifts his head to find himself bombarded from all sides by a trio of small reptilian dragons, the patrons around him watching the spectacle with no small amount of mirth.

It's a bizarre feeling to be in the spotlight and not feel the immediate urge to shrink away for once. He can't stop the laugh that breaks free from his core, scratching one of the flying rascals under the chin as he reaches under the counter for their treats. When he straightens himself once more, he meets Zooey's warm gaze. She swings herself onto a stool, hands on her chin as she _tsks_ in mock disapproval at the dragons who  dive towards the biscuits with sparkles in their eyes, their object of affection all but forgotten.

Sandalphon merely shakes his head in fond exasperation, whipping out the blend he knows she’s going to order for the umpteenth time, despite the fact that she insists it’s _not_ her favorite. The sheer delight in her expression as she receives it is another reason why Sandalphon thinks this gig might actually be worth it.

The other regulars also make an appearance, some to help Sandalphon concoct new recipes and improve existing menus, and others to contribute in one way or another — for some reason, the Harvin artist Lunalu always insists on decorating the chalkboard for the day’s special, and Sandalphon gratefully lets her. He hasn’t an ounce of creativity in his system, so he appreciates all the help he can get...even if he would sometimes catch her drawing strange things on it.

(He thinks he saw her drawing something resembling a naked man one time, but it was already gone before he could do so much as look twice, so he figures it _must_ be his imagination.)

Elta would also drop in with other musicians like Selfira (and even Aoidos, who somehow manages to string along an unwilling Rackam _every_ time) for a few sessions, lending a fresh sense of jazzy ambience to the overall atmosphere of the cafe.

The highlight of the day turns out to be none other than the famed Dragon Knights, who drop by seemingly out of nowhere. Sandalphon is only familiar with Lancelot, so it comes as a surprise when Vane, who Sandalphon vaguely remembers as the one making him his lunch that day, pulls him to the side with a vigor that he can barely keep up with. Before long, he's roped into trading advice and jotting down notes for their respective cafés (apparently Bistro Feendrache is looking for partnerships and Sandalphon can’t say he _isn’t_ considering it).

Another knight, Percival, asks about _kopi leol_ , to which Vane does _not_ take well. Somehow, it leads to Sandalphon unwittingly striking up a friendship with the snappy, flame-haired man, who seems genuinely impressed by Sandalphon’s extensive knowledge of coffee brewing techniques and blends. He laments to Lancelot about not having Sandalphon's ear back during their days of proving their worth to the food critic who’d tried to shut down their cafe, and the mere thought makes shivers run down Sandalphon’s spine.

It makes him all the more grateful that he decided to go along with Lyria’s idea of opening a practice cafe on the ship — he doesn’t need to worry about leasing fees, urban life planners or land sharks.

Regardless, he promises them a next time, an answer that appeases Percival, who soon gets dragged into a bickering match with Vane. Lancelot stays behind, asking Sandalphon how he’s been faring since that day, and they end up having an unexpected heart to heart on their distinctive leadership experiences until it's almost time to close for the day.

Lyria and Vyrn swing by again for the second time that day to help him clean up, after leaving shortly after lunch to check up on Gran. Right before they leave, they hand him something in a gift bag — an apology from Gran, they claimed, to make up for that day's absence. Opening the bag reveals it to be another one of the primordial coffee beans he'd thought was long gone, and Sandalphon has to wonder when Gran will ever stop surprising him.

Sighing, Sandalphon goes to flip the store sign to closed —

—only to have the door nearly collide with his face as it bursts open with an explosive jingle, and he is only saved from utter annihilation thanks to his quick reflexes.

A young man with luscious, long golden hair flies in with the air of someone trying to escape from his pursuers; and true enough, as soon as he closes the door with the poor stealth of a pretend assassin and a finger on his lips, they hear the telling thundering of footsteps beyond the door and shrieking voices reminiscent of banshees demanding of his whereabouts. Inwardly, Sandalphon starts bracing for impact, but it doesn’t come.

When the footsteps fade away mercifully, the man propped up against the door breathes a heavy sigh of relief, oblivious to the murderous glare shot his way.

Sandalphon clears his throat, narrowing his eyes at the intruder before pointing at the flipped sign. “The cafe is closed.”

“I apologize for the inconvenience.” The blond man answers pleadingly, his voice soft and airy, and terribly familiar. “I simply needed a quick shelter from the hordes of unwanted attention I seem to be getting. Not to worry, I will be out of your hair as soon as I am able.”

Sandalphon sighs with the weariness of a 2000 year old. “Sit down.”

“But I shan't impose any—”

“Just go and take a seat,” Sandalphon interrupts, turning around and heading back to the counter. “I still have some ingredients left over for today — I won’t waste them if I can help it.”

He doesn’t have to turn around to feel the waves of happiness the man emits as he takes his place on the counter. “You have my most sincere gratitude. I’m a newcomer around these parts, so I hope you can be patient with me.”

The brunet makes a noncommittal hum. “How do you feel about coffee?”

“Coffee?” The blond repeats, his blue eyes furrowed in consternation. “I do not have many chances to indulge in such luxuries, but I do believe it has a sophisticated flavor that many can appreciate.”

“I meant if you mind drinking it.” Sandalphon deadpans.

“Oh!” The man gasps. “Oh, no. Not at all! I’d love to have whatever you’re making.”

Sandalphon scrutinizes the flailing man a little longer before setting up the drip, fingers flying with adept ease. “Cream or sugar?”

The other man’s eyes widen with the size of a man who’s been caught like a deer in headlights. “Um…”

“Never mind that.” Sandalphon bites back a noise at the back of his throat as he slides a steaming cup towards the flustered man. “Don’t worry about paying for it. This one’s on the house, especially if you consider how bad of an actor you are.”

It takes a full second for the man to realize what Sandalphon just said. When he does, he laughs, bright and clear. “Oh dear. It seems you’ve known all along.”

Sandalphon clicks his tongue. “How could I not? You can change your appearance however many times you want, but you will never be able to get rid of that annoyingly pretentious side of yours.”

“Actually, you could say this is my true, original form.” Lucio explains cheerfully, as though he was simply trying on new clothes. “I’d thought to revert back for quite some time now, and unfortunately, I’d neglected to account for the consequences until it was too late.”

“Clearly.” Sandalphon rolls his eyes. “Why did you even assume the other appearance if this was your true form this whole time?”

“Ah, well.” Lucio starts, and Sandalphon has to make sure he’s seeing right because for once, the man looks fairly sheepish. “When my master sent me on my mission, it was imperative for me to assume a less unique appearance in hopes of blending in with the skydwellers.”

Sandalphon swears he could hear a blood vessel pop in his temple. “ _Less unique?_ ”

No, he didn't. There is no way.

Did he really imply Lucifer’s face to be _generic_?

Lucio has the absolute _nerve_ to laugh. “I suppose I’ve erred in that aspect. My master had personally recommended that visage, too…”

“Just. Stop talking.” Sandalphon groans, resisting the urge to rub his temples. “I can’t stand you.”

He laughs again, and Sandalphon thinks that he’ll never be able to get under the man’s skin as much as he does to the brunet. It puts him at a significant disadvantage — he hates when the playing field isn’t even. Perhaps the only way he could ever pull out discomfort from the carefree primal’s face is when he’s forced to drink coffee, like he is presently. When the man brings the cup to his lips and sips the liquid, his entire features twist, and Sandalphon has to smother a laugh over how ridiculous he looks.

After a few more moments of watching the man suffer in silence, Sandalphon decides to perform his first duty as Supreme Primarch — granting mercy unto his enemies.

“So,” Sandalphon begins colloquially. “What made you decide to revert?”

Lucio looks up, pleasantly surprised that the other had initiated conversation for once. “Oh, I have a few reasons. So far, I've contented myself to watching from the sidelines and only interfering in third party conflicts, but watching certain skydwellers have inspired me. Now that I’ve stepped down from my role as the Speaker, I’d like to try being true to myself.”

“...I understood barely half of what you said, but no matter.” Sandalphon shrugs. “As long as you wanted this change, then I guess it’s fine.”

“I’m surprised.” Lucio says. “I assumed you would be much happier about this outcome.”

“I see that’s your other reason.” Sandalphon smirks. “Honestly, I’d be lying if I said I didn’t mind completely. For me, that man’s face will always belong to him, as mine does to me. But,” he looks down, trying not to fidget. “After seeing him again, it became easy for me to tell the difference between you two. It’s in the way you speak, the way you carry yourselves, that makes you two completely different people for me. It only bothered me at first because I thought you were trying to plagiarize his identity. But now...yeah." He scratches the back of his head, looking away. "Anyways, pass me that if you’re done with it.”

Lucio obliges, passing the cup for Sandalphon to wash and stack. He folds his arms and watches Sandalphon’s back as he works. “I’m glad you think that way. It was not my intention to slight you. As a matter of fact...it was due to this misunderstanding that I attempted to rectify the situation. I owed it to you both.”

“So let me get this straight,” Sandalphon says, drying his hands off on his apron before turning back to Lucio. “You thought that atonement meant meddling into our business and taking matters into your own hands, is that it?”

“I— I…” Lucio stutters, flustered beyond all reasoning. “...That was rather ostentatious of me, if you put it that way.”

Sandalphon snorts, the corner of his lips curving upwards. “I’m kidding.”

Lucio gapes at him like a fish. “P-Pardon?”

He pushes away from the counter, folding his apron and hanging it on the wall. “I said I’m just kidding. I’m not going to ask for an explanation on who you are or how you did it, since you clearly have the power. That doesn’t matter to me. What matters is that you saved him from the void and kept him safe up until now. Thanks to you, we were able to see each other again, and for that, you have my utmost gratitude.”

After a few seconds of Lucio staring wordlessly at Sandalphon, he decides he can’t take it anymore.

“A-Anyways, there’s somewhere I have to be, so I’m going to take my leave. You can stay here for however long you want, just don’t forget to lock the door when you leave. Um… bye.” And with that, he rushes out the door in a flurry of wind and embarrassment.

The door closes, and Lucio looks at it long after he’s gone.

“Lucifer… you truly are a lucky man.” Lucio closes his eyes, revelling in the silence that greets him in reply. “Ah, so this is what envy feels like… such is the swan song of the Speaker.”

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

Over time, it becomes easier for Sandalphon to wield the power of his twelve wings, much to the delight of the other (retired) primarchs, and his own endless torment. He’s just wrapped up a visit to Halluel and Malluel’s home in one of the unoccupied islands and checked up on the recently revived archangel Azrael, who was essentially the younger and more jovial version of their seniors — meaning four times the headache for the Supreme Primarch.

They’d insisted on Sandalphon joining them for a tea party, and most of it had simply been the older pair recounting his pre-rebellious days in the garden, summing up to be the most agonizing hour of his life. Under normal circumstances, he would never be caught dead fraternizing with them outside of archangel business, but Michael — as his _adjutant_ —  had specifically recommended a visit lest he made them cry.

While they had hung up their halos of instruction and started living a skydweller life, they had still served directly under Michael.

He’s seen an angry Michael, but he doesn’t want to invoke the wrath a _livid_ Michael.

Rubbing his head, he sighs to himself. One more visit now and he’ll be home free. He plans on visiting Uriel next, whom he heard was still harboring the former executioner and Belial’s subordinate, Sariel.

He isn’t sure of where he stands with the dark angel, or how he felt about Sandalphon, but he has to at least give it a try, right?

Just when he’s about to unfurl his wings and take off, he feels a sharp spike in the air. A presence of an overwhelmingly powerful water primal — and is that a _human_ he’s sensing with her? — hurtling towards his location with mind numbing speed.

His confusion is proven true when said human shrieks his name. “ _Sandalphon_!”

“Don’t let go!” he hears Gabriel exclaim, and just as Sandalphon turns to meet them, an explosion of dirt and earth erupts in front of him, descending upon him like an avalanche.

He stumbles backwards with the strangest sense of dejavu and shields his eyes, hacking out his lungs. His wings beat in response, clearing out the ripples of detritus until he can make out two figures, one far shorter than the other — and far more cantankerous, judging by the irritation positively glowing off of her in waves.

“There you are!” Cagliostro huffs, hair in absolute disarray from the flight — and yet looking like she couldn’t care less. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you, Supreme Puker!”

“Excuse me?” Sandalphon stutters, aghast.

“I’m so sorry, Sandalphon!” Gabriel rushes in, feathers flying everywhere. “I told her many times not to let go of me like that, but she never listens!”

“With the way you fly, angel? Not a chance. You were just the only one around when I needed to find Rainbow Upchuck here.” Putting a hand on her hip, she points a haughty finger at an extremely bewildered Sandalphon. “You! We need to go back to the ship ASAP. I’ll explain everything there. We don’t have much time!”

Sandalphon shakes off his paralysis with no small difficulty. Cagliostro has always been more than a pain to deal with (as much as he hates to admit it, he’d much rather deal with Lucio five times over) but whatever she needs from him at that moment sounds more urgent than anything he’s doing so far. “Alright, fine. I’ll teleport us back to the ship. Stay close."

 

.

 

.

 

.

The next few moments are a blur in Sandalphon’s mind, but he remembers the curious looks they get when they rematerialize on the deck of the Grandcypher, and Cagliostro ignoring them all as she pulls Sandalphon to a secluded area under the deck, past numerous corridors. Her apprentice stands guard at the door, brightening when she sees them. Cagliostro herds Sandalphon inside the room before attempting to shoo Clarisse away, who’d been eager to follow them inside.

He tunes out their bickering when he sees a lone person standing before him, poised and waiting.

“Oh.” Sandalphon's eyebrow twitches. “It's you.”

“It’s good to see you again, Sandy.” Lucio begins, long hair framing his beatific smile. “It’s been a while. A few weeks since our last meeting? Thank you again for the coffee, by the way. It was delicious.”

“Yes, okay. Can we move on from the pleasantries already? What’s going on here?” Sandalphon looks around, and he realizes they’re in the storage room, now renovated to become some sort of makeshift laboratory with tubes and scrolls, with brightly colored potions lighting up the vicinity.

“Do not fret. We have every intention of informing you on the situation." Lucio says, and there's a ethereal quality in his voice that almost soothes Sandalphon, much to his chagrin. "You are the final, most vital key in this operation, after all.”

“Key?” Sandalphon repeats.

“Cagliostro?” Lucio prods, and their attention turns towards the two who are _still_ preoccupied.

“But why can’t I stay?” The apprentice whines. “I helped out a bunch with this too! Don’t you think I deserve to see it to the end?!”

“How many times should I tell you _no_ , Clarisse?” The irate alchemist rebukes. “I can’t afford any chances for you to dissolve something integral. The whole plan’s going to go bust!”

The contention between the two doesn't seem to have an end in sight, and just when Sandalphon wonders if he should step in, Cagliostro holds up a hand.

“Tell you what,” Cagliostro grits out. “I’ll give you a week’s break from studying if you go and watch the power levels in the next room like I _told you to_.”

And just like that, all traces of dissatisfaction drop from her face. “Really, master?”

“Yes. Now scat!” She orders, and the chipper girl finally takes her leave, wishing them good luck. When the door closes firmly again, the entire room is enveloped in blissful silence.

“Now, where were we…” Cagliostro taps her chin. “Oh, right. Everything is pretty much set up. With Sandalphon here, we can finally commence the operation. If what you said is right, Lucio…”

Lucio clears his throat, and looks at Sandalphon. “I’ve the honor of working alongside the founder of alchemy and her pupil as an advisor of sorts, but the rest beyond this point is out of my jurisdiction.”

“In other words,” Cagliostro cackles with unrestrained delight. “The success of this mission hinges directly on you. We constructed the vessel using what existing blueprints we excavated from the abandoned labs back when we were looking for clues on Lucilius’ motives. Now all we need is the soul and the repository.”

“Are you saying I’m this repository?” Sandalphon responds slowly. He continues when they nod, his confusion mounting. “What do you mean?”

Cagliostro and Lucio look at each other, with the former throwing up her hands in exasperation. “See? I told you so.”

“Patience, Cagliostro.” Lucio assures, and addresses Sandalphon. “On the surface, perhaps you may not feel it. But if you dig deeper into your subconscious, you will understand.”

“My… subconscious?”

“That day, you thanked me for saving him from the void and keeping him safe. Remember?” Lucio asks, and Sandalphon has to resist the urge to yell at him for bringing up something so sentimental when Cagliostro is _right_ there — but one look at her reveals her utter disinterest in the issue. “But you left before I could say anything, so I’ll tell you now; you have been laboring under a slight misapprehension.”

“Nonsense.” Sandalphon spits out. “Then how else would he have returned using your body as a vessel? Are you hiding him elsewhere?”

“I believe I owe you an explanation of how my power works. Or more accurately, how it used to work.” Lucio spares a glance at the short girl, who shrugs and strides out of the room, closing it behind her with a click.

He turns back to Sandalphon, putting a hand to his chest. “You know me as Lucio, the former star of a theater troupe. In truth, I am God’s ambassador, chosen mediator of humanity and the realms. My role allowed me to bridge the gap between worlds and realms. I’m able to utilize domains, territories, and dimensions to any extent I desire. The only downfall is I can only rely on existing planes — I cannot create my own. In other words, I am the one who opened the portals, albeit highly unstable ones that pulled both you and your adversaries in. Perhaps you remember that.”

“How could I forget,” Sandalphon grimaces. “We nearly lost Lyria because of it.”

Lucio winces. “Yes. Again, it is a highly unstable technique, so I saved it as a last resort. I owe you and Lyria an apology for that, as well.”

“Save your apologies." Sandalphon shakes his head, impatient. "Just tell me where Lucifer is so I know what to do.”

“Sandalphon, I want you to listen to me carefully.” Lucio’s tone takes on a much more serious inflection, and what he says next is something that Sandalphon never sees coming.

“Lucifer resides within your core. He’s been with you all along. All I did was open the doors to your own subconscious for you to seek him out.”

The shock that Sandalphon feels makes his knees feel weak — it takes all he has to remain upright. “He’s...inside me?” His hands reach towards his chest where his core thrums with life. “That can’t be possible. He—”

_When you left, I felt emptier. Like you had taken my core with you._

Sandalphon’s eyes widen. He’d said that, didn’t he? The brunet wasn’t aware back then, but now everything is falling into place. The reason Lyria’s feather had awakened in Etemenanki was not only due to the confluence of powers interacting between ancient relics, but it also needed to resonate with the soul it belonged to, who was using Sandalphon’s core as an intermediary to continue existing.

This whole time, Lucifer had been with Sandalphon, with both being none the wiser.

“The soul is attracted to cores that it deems familiar.” Lucio elaborates patiently. “Since you have also taken refuge within his core, it actively seeks you out. His ego may not be aware of it, either.”

The hand curled over his chest tightens into a vice grip, and the brunet struggles to hold back the emotions threatening to overflow. Now isn’t the time.

Blinking away moisture, he stares at Lucio, who simply observes him expectantly. “You said earlier that your power used to work a certain way. Am I to assume that you no longer possess that power?”

“Correct.” Lucio nods. “What little power I had remaining was to give Lucifer a chance to pursue a new life. Now I retain the ability no longer. My current presence here is only to be your support and guide.” His expression turns remorseful. “My apologies for not being able to do more.”

He has too many questions and not enough answers. Lucio's words glide over him like silk, and the more he tries to take a hold of it, the more it slips out of his grasp.

But one thing is clear.

“You’ve done more than enough.” Sandalphon states, and his voice, his very being starts to glow as he calls upon the power of the Supreme Primarch. “I’ve been idle for far too long. Now it’s my turn to save him.” _As he has done for me countless times_.

Sandalphon looks at each of the wings that heed his call, flaring out in its compelling grandeur. That’s when he notices the dark coffin at the far end of the room, various wires protruding at its base and disappearing behind the wall. He clenches his fist and looks back at Lucio, who nods at him kindly.

“I believe in you.” Lucio assures with a smile. “Now, focus on your breathing. Clear out your mind and rid yourself of any lingering fears and anxiety. Right now, you only have one mission, and you cannot fail it at any cost.”

Sandalphon follows along with his instructions faithfully, letting the power flood every limb on his body until he starts to feel the telltale tingle coursing through his system and igniting his core. Now he understands. After Etemenanki had awakened his twelve wings, he would sometimes feel the unmistakable presence of his late mentor when he’d unleash the power of Paradise Lost… from behind him, beside him, around him. He’d never thought that it was anything more than Lucifer’s powers.

For an entire year, he had prayed, he had hoped, he had wished, convinced that Lucifer was forever gone to a place he can never follow. For an entire year, he had willingly drowned himself in his own delusions.

He had committed a terrible sin, one that he may never well atone for. He's slowly but surely taking steps towards his own redemption, and that's all that matters to him.

He'd managed to save Lyria.

Now, there's only one last soul to save.

When he opens his eyes next, it's to a place that smelled all too familiar. He knows it the second he looks at the gazebo in the far off-distance, a beacon of light in a sea of green.

Sandalphon takes a moment to simply breathe and take in the cool, spring air. A poignant state of calm washes over him as he takes in the tranquility of this private oasis. The gentle fragrance of different flowers blending in perfect harmony, rustling leaves playing a symphony of nature in his ears… he relishes in it.  

It truly is no coincidence that this place, this transient, tiny paradise segregated from the rest of the world highly resembled the gardens they would frequently rendezvous at. It made sense that the alcove he held dearest to his heart would become his heart's sanctuary.

He feels arms circle around his back and loop towards his front. Warm breath tickles him just behind the ears, and he tries not to react as he hears him breathe, "Welcome home," and he's pulled backwards to a broad, warm chest.

He sighs, feeling the rhythm go up and down, letting their breathing settle and synchronize. Folding his arms over the other's, he carouses the texture, memorizing the curves and lines of his skin and scent the quintessence of spring's rebirth.

After what seems like an eternity, Sandalphon starts to shift, and Lucifer lets him turn around in his arms so they can stand vis-à-vis.

It feels like forever has passed since Sandalphon had last seen Lucifer's face, and yet it always feels like the first time. The sweet stinging of longing reverberates thoroughly through his being and expels the breath out of his lungs, the passage of time only amplifying its effect.

The only difference now is the unadulterated love and affection pouring freely from his very being, unabashed and emancipated, like it was always meant to be.

Overflowing with a sudden urge, Sandalphon boldly snakes his arms up Lucifer's torso to wind it around his neck, and when cranes his neck to lock their gazes, he thinks about how silly it was to be so frustrated over the absurd height difference between them. Now it's never felt more ideal.

"I missed you." Sandalphon breathes, curling his hands on his nape.

There are no words — Lucifer has moved beyond pretty verbiage as his hand moves to cup Sandalphon's face, thumb drawing tiny circles on his cheek and tucking hair behind his ear. The way he looks at Sandalphon makes him feel like he's drowning, like he can hardly breathe.

"May I?" Lucifer says.

Sandalphon reaches up, leaning more into Lucifer's body as he meets his forehead with his own, the feathery tresses caressing his skin.

"What are you waiting for?" he smiles, breathless.

When they finally meet in the middle, it's as though all the time they had lost long ago comes back, like the crashing of a tidal wave, and he's suffocating in sweet, beautiful misery. He feels the rush of helplessness himself fall in, the sinking yielding, the surging tide of warmth that leaves him limp. Lucifer tilts his head and kisses him, softly at first, and then with a swift gradation of intensity that makes him cling to the taller man as the only solid anchor in a dizzy, swaying world.

Lucifer kisses him with the vigor of a man deprived of oxygen. He takes him all and whole, swallowing every breath, every gasp, capturing every space uncovered until Sandalphon knows nothing but the feeling of Lucifer reaching deep into him, drawing out the part of him he never knew he had.

He's lost track of how many times they've parted for air, and Sandalphon can taste nothing but Lucifer, his mind heady with overstimulated desire. When Lucifer makes to close distance once more, Sandalphon brings a finger to his lips.

"Let's... not keep the others waiting for too long." Sandalphon murmurs, closing his eyes and resting his head in the crook of his neck, lips brushing against his collarbone.

"You're right," Lucifer replies, leaning back to kiss the crown of his head. "It's just been too long… Sandalphon, for thousands of years…"

"I know," Sandalphon says. "I know. I feel the same way."

He interlaces his fingers with Lucifer's, and they hold on so tightly that Sandalphon thinks that nothing else can part them ever again.

"Let's go home."

 

~ _fin_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you so much for reading! i'm absolutely floored by the overwhelmingly positive response for this fic. you guys are the best.


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